I remember mamma
When I was about 13 years old I used to go horse back riding on saturday mornings at the Shawmont Stables in Philadelphia. The stables were at Henry and Shawmont avenues, about a 45 minute walk from my house in North Philadelphia.
It cost me $5.00 to ride for an hour on the horseback riding trails along the Wissahickon creek. If business was slow they would let me stay out for an extra hour for free.
https://www.google.com/search?q=wissahickon+creek&biw=1209&bih=942&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=GcA-VNr8BZeNNvXYgMgG&ved=0CDYQsAQ&dpr=0.95
I remember the most beautiful country side.
I remember the little 17th century houses each widely spaced by rustic tree covered roads.
I remember the pasture land divided by white board fences. I remember the deer, pheasant and the occasional fox.
But most of all I remember Momma.
Momma was an elderly, piebold quarter horse that was my companion for an hour or two almst every Saturday. After I had ridden her a few times she used to get all excited when she saw me and pull out of the handler's grip and come and rub her head against my chest so that I would pet her.
I never ran Momma and I always had an Apple for her. She returned the favor by never going under a low hanging branch or rubbing my leg against a fence or tree trunk.
Momma and I would wonder through the Wissahickon trails down to the Valley Green Inn where we would sit a while. I would have an Ice cream cone, finances permitting, and I would give Momma her apple.
http://www.valleygreeninn.com/
Then I would walk Momma back to her stables, and walk myself on home.
Getting the $5.00 to go horse back riding was not a given for a scruffy north philadelphia boy in the 1950's.
But I had gotten a gig (so to speak).
I served mass every morning at 6:30 AM at the St.Joseph's Home for Girls. It was officially named "The Catholic Home for Destitute Girls" but they didn't use that name much for obvious reasons. It was a massive 18th century stone house given to the archdiocese when some old codger died. It housed a large number of little girls which I only saw at mass, or, once in a while, giggling at me from around a corner.
Every morning at 6:00 AM I would walk the two blocks from my house to the home, go in a side door left open for me, climb a set of stairs built into the stone walls and end up in a little dressing room behind the altar of the chapel. I would put on cassock and surplice, stand at the door to the altar and wait.
After a short wait I would hear "AHEM" which was my signal to walk out to the alter from the left side while the priest walked out from the right side and thus I would serve at mass.
Every day as I left after mass there was, on the window sill next to the door, either an apple or an orange. This was my daily pay which I would eat as breakfast on the way home, saving one apple a week for Momma.
On saturday there would also be a five dollar bill. This was my weekly reward which I would immediately go and spend on my saturday ride.
You meet many people in life who seem to have no soul. They have no love in them, only hardness and hate. For some reason Bill O'Riley comes to mind.
An old saying used to be 'jeez didn't that guy ever have a mother'
I think they never had a Momma.
